



Anna Heberton Ewimg 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 



Chap. Copyright No. 

Shelf _' W-^7?*?~ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



(Reveries 



ANNA HEBERTON EWING 



C^(o sound is dissonant which tells of life— COLERIDGE 



The Neale Co., Publishers 

Washington, D. C. 

mc m 

I 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

MAR. 7 1901 

Copyright hntry 

CLASS (X-XXc. N». 

COPY B. 






Copyright, 1900, Anna Heberton Ewing 



Affectionately dedicated to my 

Father, 

George Heberton, 

WITH ACKNOWLEDGMENTS TO 
ENCOURAGING FRIENDS 

A. H. E. 



PREFACE 



In presenting this little book of Poems to the 
public the writer realizes that for its success, it be 
founded on the principles of truth, to assure its 
power of giving pleasure. 

It is evident that for many years the people of the 
United States of America have been so absorbed in 
commercial pursuits and the contemplation of the 
beauties of the flash of the sword of battle, that they 
have not properly valued the charms of poesy or the 
beauties of art. Food for the heart and brain and 
appreciation of the lovely gifts of Nature in adding 
to the pleasures of the human heart the most valu- 
able conceptions of the brain, have been seemingly 
a lost and feeble emolument to them — not worthy of 
care. The flowers strewn along our path should not 
be allowed to wither and die ; but let us gather the 
fragrance as we pass and absorb their sweetness as 
dewdrops on the lyric blossoms, purity and love. 
They are the faint touch of God's hand as He 
blesses our way through the journey of life. 

Poetry and art are ennobling to the soul of man, 
and should have a place in the deepest recesses of the 



heart. This truth will not be denied by any one 
who gives them careful study and contemplation. 

There are a great number of ancient poems, but 
the difference in the dialect at the time they were 
written, and that and the language of the present 
day even in the country in which they were written, 
and their dialect of the present day, renders these 
poems almost valueless to the people. Even the 
old English has changed, until some of their great 
poems are scarcely, if ever, read at the present time. 
Milder and more competent judges have set no bar 
to the poetry of the present day in America, Eng- 
land or the Latin countries. More than twenty-five 
hundred years have rolled their ample rounds since 
that gentle woman poured out, like the song bird, 
her immortal song on the little island of Lesbos, in 
the ^Egean Sea ; and yet how few remember even 
the name of her husband or daughter. Still, in 
what nation or country has the name of Sappho 
been forgotten. She is still the Grecian poet, who 
has left a name immortal. 

When the people of our country give reasonable 
support to the writers and publishers of books of 
poetry, there will be abundance of talent in that 
line displayed in America to satisfy the world that 
America has plenty of poetic genius to fully cope 
with the age. Alson ^ B ^ Y 

Washington, D. C, 

October 20th, 1900. 



CONTENTS 



A Farewell 26 

A Glance roj 

A Lost Ideal 88 

A Prayer 7^ 

A Rift 27 

A Scar 80 

A Shield 108 

A Strawberry Wise 70 

A Tender Hand too 

A Year Ago 60 

A Zephyr jo 

Adieu, Last Star 106 

Age's Snow 96 

An Angel Voice 31 

An Answer to "Parting'''' 84 

April Days 8j 

Art Subjugated 75 

At Set of Sun 2j 

At Seven 53- 

Baby Boy 29 

Beyond Our Ken 26 

Charm 7/ 



vti 



Chords 34. 

Clouds 62 

Companionship go 

Confidences 77 

Daffodil 80 

Discontent 6j 

Disillusio?ied , g8 

Dreams go 

Echoes 102 

Edna 86 

Eleanore 11 

Fame 58 

Florence 34 

Friendship 63 

Greetings 30 

Guitar Song . . 82 

Hadst Thou Been There 66 

His Meaning 65 

Hitman Nature 82 

Impromptu . . . • 58 

Inspiration 72 

In Solitude 95 

Jack's Wife 103 

Janice 62 

Joy 34 

Leona 32 

Lily Bell Chimes 86 

Lines gi 

Love' s Awakening 25 



vtn 



Love Blossoms 33 

Lullaby 68 

Memory's Sea 88 

Moonlight Musings 7& 

Mrs. Brownie 6i 

My Stveet 9 1 

My Sweetheart 79 

None But the Birds 7 s 

Not Forgotten 9 2 

"Now the Day is Over" . 56 

O Follow Me 55 

One Grief 59 

One Nook 97 

Our Tree $5 

Overlooked io 7 

Pure Joy 63 

Relinquished 69 

Repose 2 9 

Resignation 27 

Reverie 35 

Rhapsody 57 

Saucy Red Robin 93 

Shall We 109 

Some Solace Sweet Creating 80 

Spray 7° 

Tears . 61 

Tenderness 81 

The Daisy Dell 94 

The Dying Day 99 



tx 



The Leaves Turn Red 73 

The Legend of Lake Toledo 36 

The Mask ior 

The Organ' s Message 28 

The Rolling Sea 74 

The Scales of Life S3 

The Wild Rose Blushes 66 

Thy Slav a Crown 64. 

To a Friend 31 

To a Friend no 

When Thou Art Near 104. 




(Reveries 

ELEANORE 

PART I 

The ball-room at ' ' Dorne ' ' had been gorgeous that 

night. 
When the guests were all gone and low was the 

light- 
Where recently brilliant had been the scene, 
With rare jewels' brightness and satin's rich sheen, — 
A broken ear-ring la}' lost on the floor, 
And some crushed flower petals anear the door 
Were dying and sending their farewell perfume 
To their still fresh companions across the room. 
Silence reigned. Not e'en the faintest sound 
Stirred to break the stillness profound — 
But a little while since both song and cheer 
Had each in turn filled the large space here. 
One singer, a tenor, whose voice held the spell 
Of power and beauty; sinking to swell 
In the hearts of his hearers, as well as in tone, 
Had found in the heart of a maiden his throne. 



Now in the dimness, at hour of three, 
A foot-step is heard, quick, bold and free, 
Through the spacious halls, the owner's tread — 
Then his voice: " Ha, Monsieur, I thought you in 

bed." 
The answer came in a rich, low tone : 
" By your kindness, Lord Horton, I room alone, 
And disturbed I none, then, by slipping out 
To rid me of wakefulness, strolling about." 
" Very well, use your pleasure ; good-night tho'. 
Lady Horton awaits, I really must go." 
The Earl closed his door. Le Tiers moved along, 
Entered the ball-room humming a song. 
Low was the tone, yet so high was his art 
That it pierced the silence — this song of a heart. 
Then slowly he lighted a taper he 'd brought, 
And sought about wildly, like one distraught, 
'Neath potted plants, piano and harp, 
'Til with a cry, exultant and sharp, 
He saw in the distance the fiery gleam 
Of the ruby trinket — in truth 't would seem 
A star had dropped at his earnest request, 
Or his lonely life been most suddenly blessed. 
Then amazement lighted anew his face, 
For a foot-step was heard near the silent place. 
And there, just standing within the door, 
Was the Earl's fairest daughter — Eleanore. 
The light from a tiny candle she bore 
Made her grave, sweet face seem all the more 



L,ike chiselled marble, pale in the gloom 

From the back-ground of darkness outside the room. 

She had come to look for the jewel so dear 

To her woman's heart ; had heard with fear 

The hoarse, sharp cry ; had stood quite still, 

Lacking the power to move, — or the will, — 

When across the dimness once more she heard 

That tenor voice, sweeter than viol or bird. 

She put down the candle as one in a trance, 

And, with hands clasped together, began to advance 

Slowly down the now gleaming floor 

Where the light paved a way from the sill of the door. 

I,ike a creature of other than flesh seemed she, 

With her glorious hair almost to her knee 

And eyes so brilliantly, dazzlingly bright 

That they lent her rare beauty a splendor and might. 

L,e Tiers spoke softly as she drew near : 

" Thy father allowed me to wander in here 

Because I was sleepless, my lady so fair. 

By my faith, but this taper a' most burned thy hair ! " 

"Ah, Monsieur has blown out the tiny light ! " 

' • Yes ; to save thy tresses — their radiance bright 

Will light up the darkness. Compared to thine eyes, 

The candle off yonder is but a surmise 

Of brilliancy. Felt thou, then, sleepless too 

That thou cam'st to the flowers to hear what to do ? 

They have been telling my fortune to me, 

And each one has whispered a new thought of thee." 

" Oh, Monsieur ! I pray thee, cease speaking of me. 

'3 



When thou dost sing one may listening be, 
But words are great monsters, leave them by. 
I came to the ball-room that here I might try 
To find my sweet ear-ring — the stone is red, 
A ruby once owned by my sister, now dead." 
" Yes ; I saw the fall of the jewel thou 'st lost 
And determined to save it at e'en great cost 
Of rude misconstruction upon my acts — 
But of good will my motive nothing lacks. 
Thy ear-ring I came to this spot to find, 
And meeting thy father, I had it in mind 
To tell him to go and secure thy treasure, 
But I greatly desired for myself the pleasure 
Of holding the truant. Watched I not well 
Lady Eleanore's movements to note when it fell?" 
" A heart full of thanks, Monsieur ; 't is true 
Thou hast done me of services now not a few. 
Each song from thy lips has found its way 
To my mem'ry of mem'ries — there to stay. 
Sing others, ere leaving to-morrow, they '11 burn 
In my mind till my father shall bid thee return." 
Her face was as white as the new-fallen snow 
As his eyes met hers when she turned to go. 
"Since thy kindness thou dost graciously show 
O'er my songs, they all from my heart shall flow, 
Lady Eleanore ; passing my lips always 
As songs to thy beauty, songs to thy praise." 
Le Tiers placed the jewel in her dainty hand 
And bent low to kiss a broad diamond band 

14 



Which encircled one of her fingers fair — 

To touch the soft flesh he did not dare. 

The thought in his gesture Eleanore felt 

As well as his love. Did her clear look melt 

In spite of all dignified bearing ? She gave 

Him a glance that many a gallant would crave. 

Then turning, she swept down the ancient halls 

Beneath the portraits that lined the walls — 

Paintings of earls and lords a score, 

And their ladies, ancestors of Eleanore. 

In her hand she clasped the crimson stone 

So tightly it cut a' most into the bone 

Of the self-same hand, where, shining bright, 

Was the ring that Monsieur had kissed that night ; 

That ring which all in her caste were aware 

Meant that she the great name of Furoci would bear 

As the bride of the count (ere a year would wane), 

Who had from his travels returned again. 



PART II 

In her chamber above, with dreamy young face, 
Sat the Earl's second daughter, the L,ady Grace. 
A song in her fancy was sung o'er again 
Till it filled all her life, as it filled her pure brain. 
And now that the voice could softly be heard 
Humming below without motif or word, 

15 



The air seemed alive with a myriad of tones 
That appealed to the heart in rapturous moans. 
The gentle maid listened ; a deep, rosy glow 
Spreading up to her forehead. Whispered she low 
With dimpling smiles, " Can it be true 
That he sings 'neath this window, my fancy to sue? 
He has the bearing of princes and earls 
And a new panorama of love he unfurls. 
With one tone of his voice, one look of his eye — 
Yet because he'sa commoner he must pass by. 
My father's guests he must well entertain, 
Then leave — and mayhap not return again. 
Ah, me ! " Then she paused and moved to her door, 
For she heard the soft tread of the proud Eleanore, 
Who passed on unheeding — nor smiled she nor turned. 
So Grace remained silent, tho' greatly concerned 
Lest ill had befallen her sister, the queen 
Of all women on earth that sweet Grace had e'er seen. 
To her, Lady Eleanore' s joys, hopes and fears 
Were matters of feeling for laughter or tears ; 
Not one in the world could more easily trace 
Fair Eleanore' s thoughts than could sweet Lady 
Grace. 

The day dawned in splendor of sunshine. The snow 
Lay over the ground, and it sparkled so 
In response to the warmth of Sol's caress, 
Yet remaining too cold for real tenderness. 
The house guests assembled for five-o'clock tea ; 

16 



All were there present — nay, all but three. 

(To use their pleasure throughout the morn 

But assemble at five was the house rule at "Dome.") 

Lady Eleanore's absence with Lady Grace 

Sent a look of amazement o'er every face, 

While in tones decided the Earl's command 

Rang out to the butler, "James, this note hand 

To Monsieur ; my compliments, and request 

That he join us here now at my behest." 

Some moments later Le Tiers, with a bow, 

Entered and said, "Some music is now 

At thy command ; pardon, I pray, 

That packing has kept me so long away. 

To-morrow in London the ' Nibelung Ring ' 

Is commenced, in which I 'm obliged to sing, 

As thou knowest, Countess. Which shall it be — 

The farewell song I shall sing for thee ? ' ' 

Then flooding the mansion from centre to stone 

Rang out each melodious, bell-like tone. 

In the midst of the singing, with slow, soft pace, 

There entered the room the Lady Grace. 

Her face was sad, from her lips was fled 

The girlish smile and the blood's young red ; 

And followed was she by the regal form 

Of proud Eleanore — in calm or in storm 

Able alike with deportment of ease 

To meet each demand on her power to please. 

"The harp, with Monsieur's beauteous voice," 

Was the next in the eager company's choice, 

17 



And smiled they all when most graciously 
Fair Eleanore deigned to agree 
The chords to play for Monsieur Le Tiers. 
That her heart sang with him, who was aware ? 

When in the flow of most marvelous tone 

The company was wrapped, there came alone 

Into the music-room a guest 

All unannounced, as if in quest 

Of certain welcome. A joyous smile 

lighted his handsome visage, while 

He bowed to his hostess and then in haste 

Moved towards Eleanore, not to waste 

A moment in staying from by her side — 

Two years had he lingered away from his bride. 

Slowly she lifted her dream-weaving eyes — 

Then clash, made a discord in pained surprise 

At the sudden appearance of Count Furoci, 

And with her whole being she longed to — be free ! 

In an instant her glance so strange and set 

Changed to a look of soft, friendly regret, 

Then playing on with most steady care 

She bowed to her lord — and bowed to despair ! 

The song now ended, greetings ensued, 
Despite which honors the Count seemed subdued, 
And with an expression earnest and grave 
Declined all refreshment, asked nothing save 

18 



To beg but a moment alone with the maid 
Whose greeting had made him for love feel afraid. 
" One second," she whispered, " wait till I say- 
Adieu to Monsieur — I so poorly did play 
His accompaniment simple. Go thee ahead, 
And I then will follow wherever thou treadst." 
She paused near L,e Tiers, and, as if in adieu, 
Said, " Delay thy departure an hour or two." 
He wondered at hearing the gentle request 
And consented to do whate'er she thought best. 
Then to the garden fair Eleanore turned. 
Her soft hand trembled, her proud face burned. 
On the pathway was waiting the Lady Grace, 
Who, with tearful eyes, searched Eleanore' s face. 
"Dearheart, " she cried, "well do I know 
Thy love doth not now in the right channel flow. 
Unhappy myself, how much more for thee 
Do my sad tears fall o'er thy misery." 
' ' Nay, Gracie, thy day for grief is not nigh ; 
See, I can smile, so why shouldst thou cry ? ' ' 



PART III 

Right bravely spake fair Eady Eleanore. 
Moving on, she found — in but one moment more 
Herself in the Count's most loving embrace ; 
Then shrank she from him. His noble face 

19 



Flushed crimson ; he loosed his trembling hold, 

Then said he gently, in voice controlled : 

" May I speak, Eleanore, of the change that took place 

In thy sweet expression — at sight of my face? 

'T was as if thou started in fear and in pain, 

And I dread that my absence has been some one's 

gain. 
If indeed I 'm not first, dear one, with thee, 
Thou needst ask but once for thy liberty. 
Question I not my heart's fiancee, 
Thy bidding is all that I ask thee to-day." 
The Count stood with lofty bearing, tho' he 
Turned to marble-white with intensity ; 
While Eleanore realized anew 
His grandeur of nature — shared with but few. 
Too late, however, this new-born thought — 
He had left her alone, her heart untaught. 
With another she 'd entered love's sphere, untrod; 
To another she 'd turned in the sight of God. 
And thus spoke she : "In truth 't is meet 
That my father's daughter should be discreet. 
I will fairly tell of my feelings for thee, 
But will say naught more — tho' more there be." 
Her sweet voice faltered, but high — instead 
Of bending — held she her haughty head ; 
Her eyes again filled with that sad regret 
As with gentle candor his own they met. 
" Count Furoci, I dreamed not what was meant 
When I gave to our troth my girlish consent. 



Since then, in thy absence, I 've learned to know 

That like one's mind, one's feelings can grow. 

I owe thee thanks, hold thee truly dear 

In friendly regard — but let it be clear 

That my love can never be won by thee, 

Tho' my promise I '11 keep in' all constancy." 

" 'T is enough," said the Count, "I leave to-night. 

May thy life be filled with peace and delight." 

He quickly bowed and as quickly withdrew, 

While Eleanore, moved by instinct true, 

Silenced the beating of her heart 

And hastened away that she might impart 

A warning to L,e Tiers — that he take 

His departure ere the storm should break. 

And so she wrote with a steady hand : 

"Monsieur, I beg thee — nay, I command — 

That, for a reason best known to me, 

In an hour's time thou afar wilt be. 

May heaven's blessings attend thee ever 

In all thou achievest in earnest endeavor. ' ' 

Scarce had an hour passed ere she 
Was sent for to come to the library. 
Here stood the Earl with deepening frown ; 
His wife, in tears, on the couch lay down. 
Her son attended the Countess with care, 
But none had a smile for Eleanore fair. 
Count Furoci came forward with noble grace, 
Saying, " Pray let me answer all in thy place." 



Then turned he to the enraged Earl 

Whose eyes flashed fire o'er lips' proud curl. 

' • Friend, I beseech thee, end this scene ; 

Nor blame that something has come between 

Our cherished wishes — say me nay 

And thou but hasten my steps away." 

" Count Furoci," the maiden began — but the Earl 

E'en most shouted, " Is this true, girl, 

That thou canst thus thy promise break 

For some unworthy scoundrel's sake ? 

Wilt thou the first of thy long line be 

To lower our pride of ancestry ? 

For know I well the name he bears 

Who for thy love and favor dares — 

A name unheard except in print 

Of opera programs, tin seV s glint ! " 

Oh, never could the wrath and scorn 

Within his tones be penned — or borne ! 

Eleanore's strength at last gave way, 

Her head fell back, her form's first sway 

Was noted by the Count, whose arm 

Had caught her ere he gave alarm ; 

While the weeping countess dried her tears 

And worded many tardy fears. 

The Count departed. In his stead 

There entered now, with manly tread, 

L,e Tiers. He calmly met the eyes 

Of all — now silenced with surprise. 

" Monsieur L,e Tiers is nowhere here," 



He coldly said, " it would appear. 

A tragic moment, Earl, 't is true, 

If came Le Tiers to say adieu. 

In honor of my favorite art, 

Music, have I but played a part 

Of late in the world's artistic eye. 

Enough of that ! Now pass it. I 

Am, by right of birth and lineage, last 

Marquis of Luon, et Due d'Gaste. 

As suitor for thy daughter's hand 

I offer rank and love and land. 

My singing, which won sweet Eleanore's love, 

However, in value I count far above 

My ancestral worth, my mansions complete, 

And I lay it, with them, at my fair lady's feet. 

The Earl and his son at one another 

Gazed, as if they still wondered whether 

Le Tiers was raving and they the same. 

Then a gentle sigh from Eleanore came. 

The Countess — well versed in family lore — 

Was astonished and charmed all the more, 

For the fact that she knew he spoke the truth. 

Here was a tale to tell forsooth. 

She had heard of, o'er many a cup of tea, 

The hermit Due of French ancestry 

Who never was seen, of whose regal estate 

(Sites in three countries) travelers relate ; 

And here he was standing, king of romance, 

A great name in art — a Marquis in France. 

23 



The Countess glanced at the pale Eleanore, 

Then arose and crossed the polished floor. 

" Monsieur L,e Tiers, — nay, Marquis, Duke, — 

We do thee all honor, ourselves rebuke. 

Come with me, my husband ; come, my son, 

'T is time our Kleanore's joy begun. 

Duke, I beg, if she answers not nay, 

Thou among us feel most welcome to stay. ' ' 

The Earl turned slowly and shook his head, 

" 'T is ever an evil moment," he said, 

" When a lad forsakes his heraldry 

For a thankless world — and celebrity. 

But thou to a most illustrious name 

Have succeeded in adding both worth and fame." 

So speaking, he softly left the room 

Where disaster had threatened to be love's doom. 

And the nobleman bent o'er the blushing girl : 

"Oh, true heart; oh, brave heart, my senses whirl ! 

I 've finished my life of publicity, 

And I dedicate, sweet, the same to thee. 

May I claim my noble darling to wife ? 

Ah, I see in thy face, thou art mine for life ! ' ' 



24 



AT SET OF SUN 

The sea has a million waves, 

The lakelet, none ; 
So my heart with anguish raves 

At set of sun. 

Life, like a river, flowed 

Happy and free ; 
Love on its torrent glowed 

Brightly for thee. 

Joy smiled a million ways, 

Night has begun ; 
Love perished with the rays 

At set of sun. 



LOVE'S AWAKENING 

Some of the languor of Italy's child, 

Some of the warmth of the Orient's skies, 

Some of the gleam of a tiger's wild 
Has crept into ni)' rose-bud's eyes. 

Some of the shyness of a bird, 
Some of the witchery of a maid ; 

A softer tone in the turn of a word 
From my Rose's lips, and all is said. 

25 



BEYOND OUR KEN 

Stars and stars o'erlace the sky 
And each to us a mystery. 
We plume us in our earthly lore, 
But know than tin}' babes scarce more 
Of that infinite, Godly dome 
Where the bright stars find a home. 



A FAREWELL 

Farewell ! Mine eyes will follow thee 
In mind across the restless sea. 
Where'er my thoughts are, thou'lt be there 
In circles gay or hours of prayer ; 
And if one jot of good I own, 
If any seeds of might I 've sown, 
Upon thy head the crown will lie, 
Unless thy hand should pass it by. 
Farewell ! Thy face is pictured here 
Within my heart. Thy kind words, dear, 
Re-echo throughout my life to bless 
The future in its loneliness. 
Let some thoughts upon me dwell ; 
They '11 gratify, thou know'st well, 
Their distant subject. Fare thee well ! 
And in thy heart contentment dwell. 

26 



A RIFT 

Wouldst thou, then, my hand unclasp 
While holding thine in gentle grasp ? 
Wouldst thou have thy moments free 
From companionship with me ? 
My heart, indeed, is not a stone ; 
Its tenderness is plainly shown — 
Too plainly ! Once we saw the day 
When all the world had to give away 
Unto thy love — thy love for me ! 
'T is but a semblance now I see 
Of what once was. Must I, too, fall 
From our love's delightful, gracious thrall ! 



RESIGNATION 

What peaceful hours were once enjoyed, 
How sweet their memory still ! 

But they have left an aching void 
The world can never fill. 

What now remains is vaster, far, 
Than could be what we 've missed. 

The rod was but a blessed bar 
That must be humbly kissed. 

27 



THE ORGAN'S MESSAGE 

The organ recital was nearing its close, 

And at the keys was one who, if he chose, 

Could use the rare power of throwing a spell 

Of mystic persuasion into the swell 

And fall of the organ's message — that we 

Should shape our lives for Eternity. 

The organist drew forth sounds divine 

As if in prayer at the Holy Shrine ; 

The dusk of the hour lent its lofty aid 

And a deeply religious impression made. 

Stained glass windows — red, purple, blue — 

Gave, by their warmth and richness of hue, 

An added beauty, and fitting might 

To the last adieu of the dying light. 

Up to the dome the music soared, 

And into our innermost senses poured 

Like a deep, oily river of harmony, 

Drawing us on to what we should be. 

The chords grew softer, then whispering, ceased ; 

The colors dimmed, the dark shadows increased ! 

The organ closed, vast silence reigned — 

A soul has been lifted and peace regained ! 



28 



REPOSE 

What is it to smile if tears are near ? 

What is it to stem the tide of fear ? 

What to trust with a mighty heart 

Through distracted moments ? The life-taught art 

Of self-control ! The death-taught art 



Of repose 



BABY BOY 

Little hands with strengthening grip, 
Great round eyes that shine ; 

Tender feet that sometimes trip 
Over shoes like mine. 

Dainty, fluffy frocks and such, 

Pure as a white rose ; 
He cares not for laces much — 

See that saucy nose ! 

Naught too good for thee, small man ; 

My hope is this, my prayer 
That your soul forever can 

Spotless garments wear. 

29 



GREETINGS 

Linger here a short sweet hour 
Ere time resumes its mighty sway, 

And let me make a lily bower 

Wherein we can in sweet peace stay. 

Come yet again — ah, now you see 
The rose of love is blooming low, 

Then glances up in ecstasy — 

Small wonder that it loves you so ! 

And now, once more, dear, turn this way ; 

Look, I throw down for your feet 
A ring of pansies here to-day, 

Each one a thought both pure and sweet. 

Smile, Love ! 'T is sweet to fill such nooks 
With fairy wands and festoons rare ; 

With music, pencil ings and books 
And violet crowns for you to wear. 



A ZEPHYR 

Ah, sweet is the will of the breeze ! 

O heart refreshed to the core, 
List to the echo of love in the trees ; 
Brave little Cupid awaits thee to please, 

Faithful in love or in war ! 

30 



TO A FRIEND 

O GENTLE, kindly heart, must thou again 
Bear such a load of agony and pain ? 
The last was that of heavy mental weight 
And this the pain of flesh, is nigh as great. 
How well I know the throbbing, sick'ning way 
In which the pain keeps on through night and day 
How tenderly my heart goes out to thee 
In this, thy hour of grief and agony. 



AN ANGEL VOICE 

An angel voice is falling 
In accents sweet to hear ; 

My soul aloud is calling, 
Stay thou ever near. 

An angel voice is soaring 
High to realms above, 

From whence to us is pouring 
Down a flow of love. 

31 



LEONA 

The day is slowly dying 

Into- a balmy night, 
The birds to rest are flying 

As my love comes in sight. 

The clover-blossoms, swaying, 
Whisper words of cheer ; 

They, with me, are praying 
For my Leona dear. 

Nature seems to praise her, 

Coming o'er the lea, 
And I, her chosen lover, 

Know she comes to me. 

The clover-blossoms hear me 
Murmur soft and low : 

"L,e-o-na, I adore thee ; 
No other loves thee so ! " 



32 



LOVE BLOSSOMS 

When the summer was young in its sweetness, 
When bright blossoms swayed on each tree, 

Ere the fruit took its place in completeness, 
Some blossoms of love grew for me. 

I watched them with care almost tender, 
Lest the wind should drive them afar ; 

The sunshine kissed them in splendor 
And nothing their beauty could mar. 

They flourished in richest profusion 

And glowed as they spread their perfume, 

Then dropped. Not without some confusion 
Did their fading proclaim our love's doom? 

No, dear heart ; fair fruit is now growing, 

September is with us to-day, 
And love, in its turn, is now showing 

That its blossoms but paved a way. 



JOY 

JUght-winged companion linger yet awhile, 
Teach saddened faces how again to smile ; 
Show us a few roses, each bereft of thorn, 
Come to us at eventide, come to those who mourn. 
When the sun is hidden by shadows dark and deep 
Help us search for sunshine, lest we sit and weep ; 
' Throw a rose-hued vapor over human strife, 
Play a gladsome measure for the march of life. 



CHORDS 

My life is aglow with a new sense and light 

Because of a glimpse of thy soul in its might. 

As pure as a pearl dost thou stand, far above 

Nearly all others — a life one might love. 

A hand in my soul reaches out unto thee, 

A voice therein cries in soft entreaty : 

" Give to me some of thy sweetest and best, 

L,et thy soul's melody lull me to rest." 

Now but the minor is heard, for to-day 

The major, when worked in, will finish the play 

In a glorious, rapturous tumult of sound 

In which heart, soul and senses abound. 

A medley of heav'n-sent love-songs shall rise, 

And each will find place in our souls ere it dies. 

So, on through the ages we '11 rove hand in hand, 

To a myriad of melodies, lofty — yes, grand ! 

34 



REVERIE 

My tenderly loved one, so pure and white, 

Art thou thinking of me this lonely night ? 

Dost thou long to claim this poor caress 

And return it in thy tenderness ? 

Dost thou kiss me once in spirit now 

As I smooth in fancy thy broad, low brow ? 

Art thy curls, which twine about my heart 

As they cluster aside from the snowy part, 

Where the gold leaves abruptly the tender white 

And meets the gaze of beholders quite 

Unknown to thee — a halo divine ? 

There do I kneel as does one at a shrine. 

Darling, I bid thee good-night. Sleep well. 

Thy thoughts thou mayst keep. Only God can tell 

The beauty and worth of thy gentle soul. 

Mortals like me from pole to pole 

Might travel and find not one like thee, 

So perfect in mind, heart and purity. 

Once more, good-night ! God bless thee, dear, 

And send His bright angels to hover anear ! 



35 



THE LEGEND OF LAKE TOLEDO 

LILY TIME 

Fully and most graciously did sunshine ever rest 
Upon the glassy surface of Lake Toledo's breast ; 
And softly there also oft' fell the summer rain 
Gently to be welcomed — ne'er to leave again. 
Seldom was the surface covered o'er with frost ; 
Never was its loveliness for one moment lost. 
Along its banks in splendor on a golden day 
Stood the flowing wildweeds, hollyhocks and gay 
Early summer blossoms, mingling their hue 
With the sombre brushwood, lace-worked by the 

dew. 
Thus in rustic beauty stretched about a mile 
Lake Toledo's waters — like a God-given smile. 
Near its virgin boundaries scarce a mortal trod ; 
Untouched were its beauties, unbroken its sod. 
Grew the water-lilies unmolested quite, 
Sunny-hearted lilies gleaming in the light. 
This the spot where Rodman, son of Rodman Tyre, 
Paused and stood still, gazing back on brush and 

brier. 
Through a very labyrinth had he found his way 
To the dainty Eden on this August day. 

36 



He, the heir to woodlands for many miles about 

Ne'er had seen their splendor, oft had felt a doubt 

That he cared to visit land bereft of cheer, 

But his love for Nature was awakened here. 

With a dog and rifle, he, at rise of sun, 

O'er his grounds had wandered, had his quest begun 

For the wondrous lakelet, by gran' dames full a 

score 
Said to be unearthly. Nay, but they claimed more. 
Heard he not their whispers, threw he them some 

gold; 
Left them to their fancies with their tale untold. 
Standing now, he murmured, "I shall build near by; 
Clear a space for lawn-land with this lakelet nigh. 
'T is a full fair distance from the village road, 
And my stately bride-elect shall have a fit abode. 
Comes she with the lustre of ancient name and 

pride " — 
Here he paused and whistled the hound unto his 

side, 
For, off upon the waters a form drew slowly near, 
And Rodman stared in wonder at what did now 

appear 
To be a living person on a tiny raft afloat, 
While else upon the water was neither sail nor boat. 
On, nearer came the object ; ashore the faithful 

hound 
Gave evidence of noting with many a yap and bound; 



37 



Strange it seemed to Rodman, the dog was all de- 
light, 
Clamoring most gladly as the raft came into sight. 
Ah, 't was a beauteous vision that slowly drew 

anigh, — 
As fair and dainty a maiden as ever heaved a sigh, — 
For know ye not, kind hearer, that sighs ever await 
Each sweet and gentle maiden as portions of her 

fate? 
" Neptune ; hi there, Neptune ! " rang out in girlish 

tone, 
And Rodman seized the canine that it might not 

alone 
Claim the maiden's greeting, but with dog-like grace 
Introduce the trespasser in this, her native place. 
Yet with all care he could not silence Neptune's bliss; 
The short, sudden bark rang out — nor did it ring 

amiss. 
" Over there ! " the maiden cried ; " wait, I '11 come 

to thee." 
And there in silence Rodman mused, " She comes 

to me." 
Then up against the flowery bank she ran the dainty 

craft, 
And with one wrench and mighty spring Neptune 

was on the raft. 
In frightened tone did Rodman cry, a tone almost 

pretense, 



38 



"Here, Neptune, here; down, I say, where is thy 

dog sense ? 
Thy pardon, lady, do I now in humblest spirit 

crave ; 
I fancy that my gunning dog imagined he must save 
Thee from this peaceful water, in case that thou 

shouldst fall." 
Right gaily said the maiden — nor timidly at all, 
"O pray sir, waive excuses for Neptune's good 

intent ; 
Well I know his nature and what my dog-friend 

meant." 
Then leaped she, O so lightly, up unto the bank, 
While Neptune moved caressingly, as if indeed to 

thank 
Her for her gracious coming, and pleading that she 

stay 
With mute but earnest longing in his glance and 

way. 
Gazed she then at Rodman, naught showed she of 

art — 
" Ownst thou my Neptune ? Only then, in part, 
He has known no will but mine for well-nigh a year. 
Many are the meetings we have had just here." 
" Happy dog," said Rodman, with a gentle smile. 
" May not, then, his master linger here awhile? " 
"Nay, in truth why ask me?" Then amazement 

dire 
Covered her fair features. ' 'Art thou Rodman Tyre ? ' ' 

39 



"Yes, O sweetest maiden ; I am surely he. 
Tell me now, in kindness, who it is I see 
Honoring my woodland like a fairy sprite 
Floating o'er the lakelet, lending it new light 
With thy wondrous tresses shining like to gold ? 
Answer, fairest maiden, or am I too bold ? " 
" Then thou art the owner of my lakelet, too, 
Where for hours I linger, having naught to do. 
It has been my refuge, when in silent tears 
I might oft have languished all these lonely years. 
Well I love these waters, — they seem like home to 

me, — 
Finding on their surface sweet tranquility. 
I know only old folks, sad and stern of will — 
Here I have my freedom, tho' the place is still ; 
B'en the silence whispers of all joy to be, 
And the birds seem chirping wondrous tales to me." 
Dreamy grew the maiden, Rodman gazed his fill, 
Asked her no more questions, scarcely breathed until 
Woke she from her day dream, then he murmured 

low : 
" Queen of L,ake Toledo crown I thee, and so 
Now I beg thee use thy sceptre and thy crown, 
And in truest homage do I bow me down." 
Frankly laughed the maiden, " Then there will be 

peace, 
And thou mayst know me by my name — Janice." 
Scarce had eighteen summers passed her sunny head, 
Gentle were her manners, gently was she bred ; 

40 



But her every gesture held an untrained charm — 
Childlike was her freshness, unaware of harm. 
As she rose to leave him, Rodman turned also — 
" May I not the legend of Lake Toledo know ? " 
Asked he in tone persuasive, and her flower-like face 
Flushed with eager pleasure as she moved with grace. 
" 'T is a sad, sweet story, and almost too long 
For our waning morning. I will sing the song 
Taken from its meaning, then another time 
Will I tell the legend of great love and crime." 
Then she sang quite softly in a girlish key, 
Thus : — and all the birdliugs chorused merrily. 

" ' Lake Toledo's flowering shore, 

Where grows the sweet wild rose, 
Lonely is ; must always more 

Be lonely as time goes. 
A saddened maid with golden hair 

Was with the lilies wed ; 
Stifled they her wild despair 

In their swaying bed. 
Snowy white the lilies seemed, 

Nor yellow hearts had they 
'Til her loosened tresses gleamed 

O'er their hearts that day. 
Died the gentle maid of old 

On Lake Toledo's breast, — 
The lilies wear her tresses' gold 

Her purity attest.' " 

4i 



As the last note died away Rodman smiled his praise, 
And he begged a promise, ere they went their ways, 
That Janice should come again to the lakelet's shore; 
Tell to him the wondrous tale of the grandame's lore. 
Many were the meetings, full many, too, the smiles, 
Until rosy blushes burned to greet his wiles. 
Rodman's voice was music, and with manly grace 
Charmed he with his presence, to the maid, this 

place. 
Man of worldly pleasure, well he knew his art, 
And without e'en trying gained he that pure heart. 
Troubled were the fancies now within his brain ; 
Wrestled he with memory, but it was in vain ; 
Further e'er receded the thought of pomp and power 
That came with his betrothed and her queenly dower. 
Easily he 'd won her though many suitors thronged. 
Remember or forget her, either way he wronged 
Deeply a fair woman, one a damsel proud, 
With coquettish graces handsomely endowed ; 
Or a childlike maiden like a dainty flower 
Found by fate awaiting first love's witching hour. 
Could he break his promise ? Nay, nor yet increase 
The danger of so doing by lingering near Janice. 

GOLDEN-ROD TIME 

When golden-rod was waving and cloudless was the 

sky, 
Sadder grew a lovely face as the days dragged by; 

42 



L,ake Toledo murmured to the anguished moan 
Of the lonely maiden — Rodman Tyre had flown. 
Bowed he where, in satin worked with silver thread, 
Stood his proud Normania, and her haughty head 
With its raven tresses bent before his gaze — 
Well did she know better than to blame his ways. 
Not with frowns nor speeches did this wise coquette 
Ask him where he 'd lingered, lest he should regret 
The loss of some distraction prized by him afar — 
This her time of triumph, she his leading star. 
So with all the power of her dazzling smile 
Did she from his musing mood his thoughts beguile ; 
Spoke he of the mansion near the flowering lake, 
Well was she contented there her home to make. 
Thus the flow' rets faded on Lake Toledo's shore, 
And the tardy winter with frost-work spread it o'er. 
Anear the shining waters a stately mansion rose, 
Throwing its vast shadows to where the brooklet 

flows. 
And when April hastened to bring her joys to earth, 
When bursting leaflets clustered and Springtime had 

her birth 
A pair of dashing horses drew through the village 

road 
The stately mansion's mistress unto her new abode. 
There upon the threshhold paused the beauteous 

bride, 
Then moved she like a princess — with Rodman at 

her side. 

43 



LILY TIME 

A graceful, slender figure crouched beneath the moon, 
And a silvery voice was praying for death as for a 

boon ; 
But the higher, better nature of Janice, pure and fair, 
Prevailed ; in all the mad'ning throes of love's 

despair 
Prayed she that all gladness should with him abide 
Who had herself discarded when wooing his proud 

bride. 
While angels wept with pity, gently crowning her 

above, 
The tender girl rose calmly in the chastity of love. 
Not for her was the fulfilment of Nature's leading 

law, — 
She was abnegation's creature — one for reverential 

awe. 
Up she stood, a wondrous radiance spreading from 

her chin to brow, 
And that naught of envy should o'erpower her did 

she vow. 
Came she now unto the lilies in the duskiness of 

night, 
Faithful Neptune meeting her in a rapture of delight, 
And he hovered near the maiden, knowing not her 

need of cheer — 
So she sat beside the water, thinking none would 

wander near. 

44 



Music gay and merry laughter sometimes floated o'er 

the lawn ; 
Then the silent maid would shudder e'en as does a 

frightened fawn. 

GOLDEN-ROD TIME 

When one eve beside the lakelet rested she without 

the hound 
Janice was most deeply startled by the very near-by 

sound 
Of voices — two in number — one a mellow, heavy 

bass, 
Answered by a woman's laughter, as, at quick and 

hurried pace, 
Two persons, richly clad, burst into her sight 
Where she could not hope to pass them, — and in 

this sorr} r plight 
Janice paused. The lovers tarried, listened, stand- 
ing still ; 
When up they spoke — Janice hearing, much against 

her will. 
The woman — such a creature once seen is ne'er 

forgot, 
For such beauty could but rarely fall unto a woman's 

lot. 
Ah, too well knew the maiden that most regal face 

and head, 
'T was indeed the proud Normania — she whom. 

Rodman Tyre had wed ! 



A gallant stood beside her, a foreigner by look, 
Seeking for a mossy seat in the silent, fragrant nook. 
Swore he that he loved her well ; spoke she not a 

word. 
Marble- white she gazed ahead as his vows she heard. 
Now the moon, released from cloud, shone without 

alloy, 
And her face became illumined with a sudden joy; 
But beside the silent water, terror sank into her heart, 
For she feared her ardent lover, and she failed to 

play her part. 
Now the hastening footsteps, coming fast and free, 
Was the tread of Rodman, and most piercingly 
Cried his bride, " Oh, Rodman, save me, if you can, 
From these hideous waters and this frenzied man ! " 
With a spring did Rodman through the bushes dash; 
But that self-same instant saw a bullet crash 
Through his noble forehead. Fell he on his side, 
And his mean assassin hastened far to ride. 
Stood the proud Normania as if turned to stone, 
Moving not a muscle, making not a moan ; 
From the thicket Janice gently drew anigh, 
Gazed at Normania, then with a low cry 
Bent o'er the body, kissed the white, dead face ; 
Forgotten was injustice, the bride, the hour, the 

place ; 
'Till she was most rudely, with ungentle hand, 
Thrust aside and threatened: "Girl, thou 'It bear 

the brand 

46 



Of being Rodman's murderess. Thus I '11 shield his 

name, — 
Covering up the scandal, for my name's the same. 
I am, girl, the wedded wife of Rodman here. 
Be thou his destroyer ! Though I greatly fear 
From thy raving actions, maiden at his side, 
That thou wouldst have willingly been his loving 

bride." 
Answered not sweet Janice. Madame moved away, 
And when she reached the mansion her face was 

ashen gray. 



The search was unavailing for the one accused, 
Though the family of Normania wealth and cunning 

used. 
Then came Rodman's cousin, next in line was he ; 
Karl his name, his nature fine to a degree. 
Pitied he the maiden who afar had flown 
Without a fair trial ; of whose lot so lone 
Heard he many rumors, heard he many a sigh 
From the faithful township. Ere a month went by 
Madame Tyre departed from the halls and towers 
Of the stately mansion with its lawns and bowers. 
Days of gloom were followed for the kindly Karl 
By days of keen inquiry, smoothing out the snarl 
Of the most mysterious flight of the fair Janice, 
And as he paced his garden his wonder but increased. 



47 



LILY TIME 

As once the twilight gathered its dusky mantle 

'round, 
' ' Karl of Tyre ' ' was walking with his hunting hound 
Neptune, whose late owner, Rodman, lay so still 
In his grave off yonder on summit of the hill ; 
Neptune, who had ever with loving, great brown eyes 
Regarded the sweet Janice as his lady and his prize. 
Now with his new owner the dog was most sedate, 
Sharing all the rambles that Karl took oft and late. 
.On a balmy evening, 't was in bright Jul} 7 — 
Since the tragic shooting some months had passed by — 
Man and dog were walking near Toledo Lake. 
Of a sudden Neptune's form commenced to shake, 
And, with ghastty meaning, uttered he a howl 
'Spite of Karl's upbraiding or his angry scowl. 
Then the powerful creature dashed into the lake 
And as with all fervor tried his way to make 
To the swaying lilies — Karl with flying feet 
Followed the embankment ; what a sight to greet ! 
His staring eyes protruded, for there upon a raft 
Floating 'midst the lilies a maiden sat and laughed — 
Laughed with that shrill horror that is bereft of 

sense. 
Came she there in madness ; wished not to go hence. 
But when faithful Neptune reached his much-loved 

maid 
She gazed at him in rapture — burst into tirade ; 

48 



Fondled she her comrade, bending o'er his head, 
Then in clearest music she half sung, half said : 

" ' L,ake Toledo's flowering shore, 

Where grows the sweet wild rose, 
Lonely is ; must always more 

Be lonely as time goes. 
A saddened maid with golden hair 

Was to the lilies wed, 
Stifled they her wild despair — 

Wild despair — wild de-spair ! ' : 

As the sad cry issued from those cold, pale lips 
A chill passed o'er the hearer from head to finger- 
tips, 
And that dainty figure, arms outstretched, bent o'er 
The darkly-rippling water and lily blooms galore ; 
Faced she once the heavens, then without a sigh 
Fell slowly backward, as if 't were sweet to die. 
In that selfsame moment changed was the scene, 
For with a bark of anguish Neptune plunged between 
The slender life of Janice and her endless rest — 
'Midst the tangled lilies strove to do his best. 
Then a ringing cry of cheer filled the darkening place, 
And a willing, manly form swam towards a face 
Which, like shining marble or a fallen star, 
Gleamed among the lilies, while anear and far 
O'er their snowy petals, twining here and there, 
Were the pale-gold tendrils of her loosened hair. 

49 



With a mighty effort Karl the raft secured, 

And the maid and Neptune soon were safely moored. 

Karl the fainting maiden carried from the lake 

To the stately mansion, there to undertake 

Her resuscitation, with the help of one 

Who ordered his good living — kind-hearted Mrs. 

Dunn. 
How that homely creature o'er the maiden cried. 
Saying to the master : " O sir, had she died 
I 'd a been most wretched, and now, since she 's found, 
Must I speak out truly, spread the news around ? 
This sweet little maiden, known as fair Janice, 
Could have died to-night, sir, in purity and peace. 
Sir, her soul is whiter than even is her brow, 
Tho' I said it never until you hear me now ; 
For, thought I, the master lying cold and dead 
Would not wish a whisper 'gainst the one he wed, — 
Madame Tyre, — nor do I blame her even yet ; 
Still, I can swear this maiden hath nothing to 

regret." 
Karl, who now stood gazing in pity most profound 
Upon the form of Janice, with its scattered locks 

around, 
Heaved a sigh of pleasure. Feelings strange and new 
Mingled with his planning what he had best do, 
And his noble features lightened with a smile. 
Said he : " Thank thee, madame ; care for her awhile. 
Let her use this mansion as her very own. 
Teach her smiles and laughter, not to weep alone. 

5" 



I go hence this hour, and will learn the mode 
Of my cousin's slaying near his own abode. 
I will know the story of this maiden's flight ; 
I will turn, in justice, her great wrong to right ; 
Then will I come hither. Till I return 
Guard yon tender maiden, that thou mayst earn 
My high appreciation. Show her all esteem." 
Then bowed Madame lowly. ' 'Ah, sir, it would seem 
Thou nam'st a gentle duty, all honor here at 'Tyre ' 
Shall be shown the gracious lady whose sufferings 

were dire." 
" Farewell," said Karl softly, turning round to go. 
Hark, was it only fancy that feebly said "Ah, no ! " 



I.ILY TIME 

When lily blooms were starting again to show in bud, 
All glowing was the freshness, the lake was at its 

flood ; 
The clam'ring robin red-breasts, alert to food and 

sound, 
A fair and beauteous refuge anear the lakelet found. 
At length unto the mansion rode its master proud ; 
No gloom upon his countenance, his head erect, not 

bowed. 
Within his heart was singing a score of merry birds 
And the softness of the Springtime was in his looks 

and words. 

5i 



Hasten now and list ye, what murmurs he so low ? 
" May all the richest blessings unto my darling flow. 
My pure and perfect lily, so bent with sore distress, 
Shall live to smile in radiance of love and tenderness. ' ' 
On rode the noble Karl through driveway newly 

green, 
And the shimmering moonbeams shyly glanced be- 
tween 
The bending boughs of sturdy trees that lined the 

entrance lane. 
But moonbeams are so silent and Karl, I grant, would 

fain 
Hear a cheery welcome, so hurried on his steed ; 
That all was well, he hoped — and then his suit to 

plead. 
Clad in white within the hall stood the lily maid ; 
Turneth she away in haste. What ! is she afraid ? 
Strideth Karl onto her side : " Maiden, is it thee 
All rosy, smiling, dimpled, the maid once sad to see — 
The lily maid whose waxen face was one to view 

with dread, 
Who rode I fast and rode I far to reach lest she be 

dead? 
My dainty darling, see, I kneel before thy tender 

grace. 
If thou art cruel, lily maid, thou dost belie thy face ! " 
O shyly and so winsomely gazed she in his eyes, 
That her own seemed superhuman, of a wondrous 

size. 

52 



" Dear one " — she spoke softly ; her voice could al- 
most seem 
Alike the ripples from a leaf just fallen upon a stream — 
1 ' Know I now that none like thee is left above the 

ground, 
And that never maiden nobler man on earth hath 

found. 
My sad love seemeth distant, and as if it could but be 
A foreshadowing of this rapture, of this glow I feel 
for thee." 

When the lilies in the splendor of their white and 

golden pride 
lifted up their sunlit faces, Janice was a bride. 
Well she loves the brushwood glist'ning with its dust 

of early dew. 
And the morning glories clustering in their richest 

purple blue. 
Unmolested are the lilies, gleaming their sweet lives 

away ; 
Nature is their only mistress — here she reigns in 

beauteous swav. 



53 



FLORENCE 

FLORENCE, Queen of the kingdom "Mind" 
In Fancy's birthplace ! Queen of Love, 
Of all Earth's joy— 
Lift me with thy gracious, kind, 
And loving smile to heights above 
Things that annoy. 

Lower now thy tend' rest voice 
To cadence fitted to our dreams — 
Our coupled hearts. 
Bend thy golden head by choice 

And let me see thy sweet eye-beams 
From whence truth starts. 

Say thou e'en so small a word, 
'T will find with me its place 
And there abide. 
Not a leaf nor grass blade stirred, 
Not a zephyr raised thy lace 
When by my side 

That I was not aware of, Florenchen, 

So fair the hour and sweet with thee anear, 
In reach of hand. 
Depart so soon ? Dost thou know then 

Thou 'st dropped the rose, once to thee dear. 
On the gray sand ? 



54 



O FOLLOW ME 

O for the sight of the rolling sea 

As merrily 

The waves agree 

That joy is joy, and love and glee 

Shall follow me. 

There where the salty breezes blow, 

The winter snow 

Must melt and go. 

The sun-kissed wavelets will it so, 

For they the joy of love well know. 

There o'er the glorious unrest 

Of the grand old ocean's heaving breast, 

All that 's best 

Of things confessed 

Comes to us by the seas' hehest. 



AT SEVEN 

My love comes to me at seven, 

When the day and the evening meet ; 

And there 's naught 'twixt this and heaven 
That life holds, half so sweet. 

55 



"NOW THE DAY IS OVER" 



^tt^P^ 



By the sea I paused when the twilight 
Was tenderly nearing the scene, 

When transcendent thoughts, engrossing, 
Placed 'twixt nature and soul a screen. 

The sea made its evening endeavor 

To deepen its richness of hue ; 
From the sparkling rise of the water 

The fall of it seemed the more blue. 

As I rested, a change swept my musings — 

A feeling of sanctity glowed 
O'er my spirit. I gazed at the cloudlets — 

Like aerial lakelets they flowed. 

Anear me the scene was so silent 

That the rhythmical sound of the sea 

Seemed throbbing with prayer ; its motion 
Was one with the longing in me. 

Then I heard the tones of an organ 
From the heart of a church nearby ; 

'T was the even prayer. Hark, singing ! 
" Night is drawing nigh." 

56 



That tenderly-exquisite hymn-tune 
Of eventide swelled on the air, 

Till my life was engulfed, re-awakened, 
As I paused on the soft sand there. 



RHAPSODY 

My love, these senses are rocked in bliss 
And vibrate to thy gentle touch. 

Part of a life was spent waiting for this — 
All else seems little, this much. 

See, I bend low to kiss thy sweet hand — 

No, love, 't is not too low ; 
For the finger-tips pressing mine form a band 

For a bunch of heart blessings, you know. 

Hush, darling ; a moment wait ; be still. 

Let our old Father Time pass by 
And catch us having our own sweet will 

In Love's golden trance, you and I. 

He '11 carry the memory, and carry it well, 
But not, love, from you nor from me ; 

For I know that in our minds it will dwell 
In all time which is yet to be. 

57 



IMPROMPTU 

Have you seen a great star gleaming 

Afar in the midnight sky 
One night ? Did the next, tho' fair seeming, 

Feel dark with that star not nigh ? 

Have you lived in a dream of sunshine 

And wakened to find it drear, 
Your empty fingers to intertwine ? 

Did you note that downcoursing tear ? 

Can you feel these tumultous heart-throbs ? 

Can you read the depths of a soul ? 
Will you help to lessen one life's sobs 

And make it sweet and whole ? 



FAME 

A maid set out to climb the mount of fame. 

Years passed — she reached the summit. Now her 

name 
Rings out with plaudits from the crowd below. 
But there she stands in age's winter snow 
Alone ! Too tired to listen, or to smile, or hear. 
What glistens on her face ? A lonely tear. 

58 



ONE GRIEF 

A SONG 

Only one grief, but deeper 
Than ever was grief before. 

Only some tears, but tears, love, 
Often have fallen of yore — 
These but a few tears more. 

Naught but a heart left bleeding, 
Sadder than words can say ; 

'T was but a word unspoken 
Caused joy to die to-day — 
To languish and fade away. 

All of a life's deep glory 
Banished. For all is o'er ; 

Dark is the rosy pathway 
Trodden in joy of yore — 
Darkened forever more. 



59 



A YEAR AGO 

A year ago, when the spring was young, 
Ere the leaves took on their green, 

I picked thee out the crowds among — 
May naught e'er come between ! 

The months each grew more fragrant 
With the flowers born of May ; 

My heart became a vagrant 
As 't was softly stolen away ! 
The flowers were fair that May 
When my heart was stolen away ! 

My love with autumn did not pine, 

For when the summer fled 
The warmth of love, with its sunshine, 

Filled the place instead ! 
And in the garden of my heart 

There lives and blooms for thee 
The rose of love, set off, apart, 

In pride and purity ! 
The flowers were fair that May 
When my heart was stolen away ! 



60 



MRS. BROWNIE 

Brownie has built a charming nest 

In the old elm tree to-day, 
And therein tucked his own heart's best — 

Mrs. Brownie from over the way. 

They are not stout brownies with great huge'eyes, 
Wearing slippers with long-curved toes ; 

Their tiny feet would have a surprise, 
For of slippers neither one knows. 

Mr. Brownie is just a sparrow bird 

With a warm little heart indeed, 
And Mrs. Brownie, I 've often heard, 

Does a happy and joyful life lead. 



TEARS 

Weep, such tears are pure and holy ; 

Sinking down in mossy sod 
Toward a form now still and lowly, 

Whence a soul has flown to God. 

Weep, for tears are words for feeling. 

Eyes will ache for want of sleep ; 
Hearts, when sore, are slow of healing. 

Blessed indeed are those who weep. 

61 



JANICE 

O SWEET Janice, canst thou be dead ? 
Yes, still thy heart and calm instead 
Of smiling lay those curved lips. 

Breath has flown ! 
Was the soul-light, then, in thy sweet eyes 
A tender spark from other skies ? 
That gentle touch of finger-tips 

A touch of Heaven's own ? 
The others linger o'er thy name, 
Or pause they uttering the same 

E'en in hushed tone. 
But I stand gazing on thy brow, 
Murmuring ever — always now, 

Eternally alone. 
Janice ! sweet, sweet Janice ! 
My spirit-love — purity, peace ! 

Janice ! Janice ! 



CLOUDS 

When the heavy clouds all bend 

Darkest overhead, 
Then, indeed, does fate intend 

To send new light instead. 

62 



PURE JOY 

There s a trill of pure joy in the song of to-day, 

Of the golden-winged bird as he sings his lay ; 

And he glances aloft, perhaps to see 

Where the home of so much sunshine can be. 

Then down to the garden his glances stray 

To gaze at the rose-buds. He thinks they will stay, 

And does not know that on some fair eve 

They will wither away ; nor does he believe 

That hearts can be cruel, or thoughts unkind, — 

Only love and joy can the sweet bird find. 



FRIENDSHIP 

Were I lost in clouds of doubt, 

Hazy dreams, or fear, 
Thy sweet eyes could lead me out 

With a glance or tear. 

Were I lonely with my soul, 

Engrossed in a prayer, 
I should not think it quite whole 

Were thv name not there. 



THY STAR A CROWN 

A soft voice came to lny soul to say : 

" Go forth in the world afar ; 
Thou 'It find pure joy upon the way 

And high shall mount thy star. 

Then to the lowly thou wilt bend 

A hand with loving care, 
And little children thou wilt send 

To gather garlands fair. 

Then turn their thoughts to heaven above 

By teaching them to know 
That o'er them reigns the God of Love, 

Who yearns to love them so. 

Later, when thy work 's all o'er, 

Thy star shall lead the way 
Unto the widely-open door 

Where angels fair will say : 

' Thy star a shining crown shall be. 
Listen that ye may know. 
Here, above, were heard for thee 
All prayers ye taught below.' ' 



64 



HIS MEANING 

'T was not the wish to disturb thee so 
That prompted those letters of mine. 

'T was merely the wondering whether or no 
I might have in return some of thine. 

'T was not the desire to tire thee out 

That sent me to sit by thy side. 
'T was only to kill the painful doubt 

That thy fondness could not abide. 

And the reason I looked into thine eyes 

All too often was, sweet, to see 
If some of the love that within me would rise, 

Could not be transmitted to thee. 

Thou failed to see the wherefore that I 
Should linger. Thou bad' st me go; 

But thou could not believe that the reason why 
Was — because I loved thee so. 

My letters, words and visits appear 
To have worried thee, sweet, at last. 

I wonder will thou e'er miss them, dear, 
When they become things of the past. 



65 



THE WILD ROSE BLUSHES 

Each tiny grass-blade is waving about 

In an ecstasy 'neath my eyes, 
And the wild rose blushes without a doubt 

With love and sweet surprise. 
The clover is hanging its dainty head 

All filled with a burden of dew, 
And the wide-awake robin is watching instead 

Of singing — while waiting for you. 

The daisies which grew near the border tree 

Faded away, you must know, 
Longing to see your face so fair. 

Ah, why did you grieve them so? 
But now you are coming. Ring, lily bells ! 

To sadness and grief bid adieu. 
Oh what joy in my yearning heart dwells. 

As I listen and wait, love, for you ! 



HADST THOU BEEN THERE 

The skies were dark, 
For the sandy shore 

Was bereft of the mark 
Of one step more. 

66 



The sea was rough, 
So wild with despair, 

And with reason enough — 
Thou wert not near. 

The skies would have smiled 
In the sun's warm glare, 

And the sea 'd have been mild 
Hadst thou been there. 



DISCONTENT 

The sky and ocean had never met — 
They had much to conceal, much to regret 
And with every heave the surging tide 
Endeavored to reach the heavens so wide. 
Why should the clouds so restless be ? 
They tried to reach the far-distant sea. 
Days dawned, then silently slipped away ; 
The ocean moaned and slashed its spray. 
The heavens smiled, then wept again 
In discontent with earth and men ; 
The waves caressed and begged the shore 
To come and join them more and more ; 
But on beyond, in mighty power, 
God ruled the struggle hour by hour ! 

67 



LUIXABY 

Why not sleep, my only one, 

And see the dreamland bowers ; 
The fairy dancing has begun — 

'T will last all sleep}' hours. 
The tiny little bluebells 

Are ringing out their tune, 
While all about in dream-dells 

The fairy flow' rets bloom. 
La, la, la ! Fairies are calling thee low 
L,a, la, la, la ! To Dreamland 't is 
time to go. 

Hush ! the birds are sleeping 

In every downy nest ; 
Mamma bird is keeping 

Watch o'er her heart's best. 
Never can her birds, dear, 

To Fairy Islands fly ; 
But mamma's darling, nestling here, 

In dreams will pass them by. 



68 



RELINQUISHED 

I saw him lift the tendrils of her softly-curling hair 
And gaze into her witching face. I turned cold 

with despair, 
Then enraged enough was I to kill ; but all to what 

avail ? 
If I gave way to my anguish, or spoiled their lover's 

tale, 
'T would but forge the fetters stronger of faith and 

constancy — 
That love which, now another's, had once been sworn 

for me. 
Then a change came o'er my spirit. Two souls 

beneath the sun 
Have met to love each other. Could I, then, be the 

one 
To dampen that sweet ardor, encloud my darling's 

brow, 
When, loving so another, she ne'er could love me 

now ? 



69 



A STRAWBERRY WISE 

She lifted a ripened strawberry red 
And I remarked on its crimson hue, 

Standing with me near the strawberry bed, 
With the guests of the lawn fete in view. 

The great red berry was held by its stem 

In her dainty white finger-tips, 
But it fell by chance to her dress's hem, 

On its way to her waiting lips. 

And no other berry I found that day, 
As I searched in the sun's hot glare, 

Seemed as good as the one which rolled away 
And lay in the dust over there. 

Ah, strawberry wise, 't is easy to please, 
Keeping far from reach but in sight. 

Here I toil for a smile in my hours of ease 
And gain not one half of your might. 



SPRAY 

A sea-spray called to the dawning day : 
" Hurry and kiss ere I melt away " ; 
And the dawn to old Sol beckoned in haste 
Lest the sweet opportunity he should waste. 

70 



A shell nestled softly into the sand ; 
A lovely girl passed with swaying hand ; 
The shell was longing this owner to claim, 
But was crushed by her tread as on she came. 

Old Sol paused in his soft caress 
To stare in surprise at such carelessness, 
And the spray's brief happiness died at birth ; 
But the girl was lost in a dream of mirth. 



CHARM 

A Tiny violet swayed and bent 

And smiled up at the sky ; 
It freely gave its lovely scent 

And softly wondered why 
Mortals all, who passed that way, 

Found in it such a charm, 
And seldom let a violet stay 

Where it was free from harm. 

A little bird sang overhead 

A gay and glad refrain — 
The pretty leaves were turning red ; 

The sun shone in the lane. 
The little birdie's modesty 

Was great ; he wondered why 
The children paused beneath his tree 

To gaze up at the sky. 

7* 



INSPIRATION 

Thy voice holds in its magic 

A wondrous swaying power, 
More words of joy and tragic 

Expression in one hour 
Than volumes of sweet verses ; 

Than wells of frozen tears ; 
Than love, when it immerses 

Our soul and calms our fears. 

Thy voice enslaves my best dreams 

And opens wide a door 
Wherein sweet nature oft seems 

To lock away a store 
Of lovely fancies — music's dower — 

Which to the scribe gives fame. 
Thy songs are like unto that bower 

The key-lock is — thy name. 

Thy voice is, unto one mind, 

A fount of endless thought, 
An inspiration combined 

With joy which ne'er is taught. 
O let the word oft hear thee, 

When, with an artistic choice, 
The best in music nobly 

Is sung by thy sweet voice. 

72 



Theu let me like an echo 

But word the world's applause ; 
Not in the loud, but narrow, 

Pathway of fashion's laws ; 
But with a pen dipped gently 

In music-love and praise ; 
With a glow which, evidently, 

Can reflect thy soul's own rays. 



THE LEAVES TURN RED 

The leaves are all turning to red and gold ; 

Methinks they are fair when aglow, 
For my great love, which has ne'er been told, 

Has colored my life just so. 

A golden glimmer now touches all 

My days with a sweet repose, 
And a mystic vapor has chosen to fall 

Like the scent of a fragrant rose. 

I loved none yet when springtime came, 
Save the sun and the flowers below ; 

But now naught seems to be the same, 
For my loved one adores me so. 

73 



A PRAYER 

God bless you, dear one, as you sleep ; 

Thy grave, sweet eyes must have their rest, 
And o'er your slumbers, tranquil, deep, 

May angels pause at my request. 

God bless you, dear one, when you rise 

To face the turmoil of each day, 
And give to you the greatest prize 

For which you long and strive and pray ! 



THE ROLLING SEA 

Think often of the rolling sea ; 
How, in dusky starlight, we 
Exchanged a thought ; its wondrous might 
Made in our minds a wish for right — 

Right in true affinity, 

Right in all divinity. 

Think often of the rolling sea, 
And when so musing give to me 
A fleeting thought, however dim, 
And let it (like an echoing hymn 
Refrain, from out your childhood's store 
Of mem' ries) linger ; evermore. — 

74 



ART SUBJUGATED 
What was 't thou sang to me 
As I against thy knee 
Leaned, on the sandy beach 
Just out of ocean's reach ? 
Neptune's accompaniment 
A strange enchantment lent 
To that most beauteous sound, 
Thy voice — so rich and round. 
Wierd but bewitching hour ! 
Voice with its swaying power ! 
No need of lyre nor harp ; 
No need of critic sharp. 
Thine was an artist's name 
Already known to fame ; 
Yet in thee none could see 
Aught but simplicity. 
I there, in humble joy, 
Scarce breathed, lest sigh annoy 
Thy dreamy, tunesome mood 
Gently by muses wooed. 
Sing'st thou not alway ? 
Never did audience gay 
Hear just such tones. A part 
Of thy sweet soul. Not art ! 
Or art quite subjugated 
By Nature, soul-related. 
Purity by thee enthroned, 
Fitly thy voice entoned. 

75 



MOONLIGHT MUSINGS 

A band of silver lay over the tide, 
And the lustre held such a spell 

That I wished to have thee by my side 
In the moonlight an hour to dwell. 

I traveled the mystic, beauteous line, 
In mind, o'er the sea's unrest, 

And my hand instinctively felt for thine, 
But it failed, dear heart, in its quest. 

O'er the heaving ocean's silver track, 
High there, on the smiling night, 

We journeyed in spirit, then came back 
With a deeper rev'rence and might. 

The voyage was sweet, beyond compare, 
And pure as the light on the sea, 

While tho' afar, dear, thou lingered there 
In high-souled commune, love, with me. 



CONFIDENCES 

There is something, O so sweet, to be told, 

It rings on the summer air ; 
All the tiny rose-buds cherish, enfold, 

The secret I left in their care. 

Each leaf on the topmost branches 

Of four of our tallest trees 
That blissful tale enhances, 

As it whispers it to the breeze. 



Not far away grow some lilies sweet ; 

They gleam in their purity, 
And just here, running at my feet, 

The brook sings my secret to me. 

But only to those who are silent and wise 

Do I of my deep love tell ; 
By the time the rose-buds open their eyes 

Some one else may know it as well. 



77 



NONE BUT THE BIRDS 

The woodbine clambered o'er the fence ; 
A maid stood by, all innocence. 
A June sunbeam reaching through 
The shade tree's boughs touched new 
Her glossy hair. Ah, what thy blush ? 
Listen, ye noisy birds ! Hearken ! Hush ! 
" Dear heart," cries he. 

" Waiting for me? 

Then thou 'It say 

Yes, when I pray 

Come to my heart 

Never to part. ' ' 

September. The woodbine hangs its bloom ; 

Sunbeams marvel at such gloom. 

A chill little breeze which comes to say : 

" God speed " to the lovers, moved away. 

For the lad stands by the fence alone. 

To God, in spirit, his bride had flown. 

None but the birds 

Hear his sad words. 

" Dearheart," cries he, 

" Wait yet for me ; 

I am coming above 

To thee, my love ! ' ' 



78 



MY SWEETHEART 

Not all the gold of the daffodil, 
Made glorious by Nature's skill, 
Nor the mystic-scented coronet 
Which sweetly crowns the violet, 
Nor yet the fragrant heliotrope, 
With its tiny flow' rets all aslope, 
Could show you e'en the smallest part 
Of the dainty charm of my sweetheart. 
Should any on this earth despise 
This loved one whom I idolize 
I would his words and looks defy 
And throw into his face the lie ; 
Nor would I even once permit 
That she should for his benefit 
Smile and graciously forgive, 
Nor even frown a negative. 
My darling who, when boys molest 
Some birdlings in their downy nest, 
Grows tender with a woman's love 
Lent to her by the hosts above. 
Let Nature's song and mine combine 
This dainty darling to enshrine 
In each pure mind. Then there, apart. 
Will reign in splendor my sweetheart. 



79 



A SCAR 

Age, with its creases, in passing by 
Scattered a few for youth to try. 
One fell on a soft and girlish face 
And settled slowly into place. 

I knew, without her telling me, 

That the early little crease must be 

Only the very smallest part 

Of a heavy blow which bruised her heart. 



SOME SOLACE SWEET CREATING 

I think that heaven meant not so sad an ending 
Unto my dream of loveliness and light, 

Or else that cloud was lowered while intending 
To lead my soul unto a higher flight. 

Mayhap the years which pass will tell their story, 
How better far it was for us to part, 

And happiness in fuller, grander glory 
Will fill each crevice of an aching heart. 

But, ah, the sadness and the dreary waiting ; 

The heartbeats each, dear one, a sob for thee ! 
Is time some gentle solace sweet creating, 

Or will it lead thee back again to me ? 

80 



TENDERNESS 

There are no words too sweet and kind, 

No songs too tender, deep, 
To show the thoughts which fill my mind 

And penetrate my sleep. 

Such words and songs are merely tone 

And poorly do their part 
When they describe my love for you — 

A love which fills my heart. 

Ah, darling, if you hear me tell 

Of this great love of mine, 
And how my eyes with tears do swell 

While yours with light do shine ! 

I '11 bless thee for one single smile, 

Or for a pitying tear, 
If thou 'It but linger yet a while 

To listen and to hear. 



8] 



HUMAN NATURE 
[one side] 

The crowd in waiting for a star 

The sun forgot ; 
Next day was rainy near and far, 

The sun shone not. 

Night fell ; neither star nor moon 

The darkness cheered ; 
Next day the glorious sun at noon 

Again appeared. 

The crowd, while basking in its rays, 

Forgot 't was there, 
Save to, in their several hundred ways, 

Deplore the glare. 



GUITAR SONG 

Nearby in silence is lying 

My stringless, forlorn guitar, 
And I think, not without sighing. 

How like it our lives oft are ; 
In the soul is many a sweet strain 

Of harmony divine, 
Which draws us heavenward again 

Unto the hoty shrine. 

82 



Life's noisy bells keep tolling ; 

In the sound we soon forget 
The softer tones and rolling 

Vibrations of regret ; 
But when forlorn our souls lie 

Bereft, unstrung, alone, 
An angel's hand just passing by 

Fills the space with sweetest tone. 



THE SCALES OF LIFE 

Wouxdst thou deny the rose's charm and mystic scent, 

Its dainty hue, 
Because a chance thorn your blundering finger rent, 

And startled you ? 

Would, unto thee, thy much-loved harp become 

A senseless thing 
Because thy hand had left it, made it dumb, 

Bereft of string ? 

Then would one fear to have thee hold 

The scales of life. 
Lest by some caprice odd and bold 

Thou shouldst bring strife. 

83 



AN ANSWER TO "PARTING" 

What if, perchance, your parting were a vain 
And needless manner of inflicting pain 
Upon another and yourself as well ? 
Mayhap that other time has chosen to tell 
That in the sundering of those tender ties 
Mistake was made — doleful error lies ? 
What if, thus, with active, clamoring pen, 
That other's sorrow should be known by men ? 
Deep rivers, like deep sorrows, true are still ; 
They hide as well some hideous crimes until 
The Judgment Day. Will hidden troubles ride 
In moody silence next to false self-pride ? 
From speaking lips and loving hearts one knows 
Much foolishness, yet much candor flows ; 
But sorrows, such as mourning o'er our dead, 
Need little showing, they are hallowed. 
Our living griefs, like your well-quoted wine, 
Should ever with a mellow lustre shine. 
If right should rule your coming e'er together, 
Dare not to judge of anguish in another ! 



84 



OUR TREE 

I sit ine down near the Christmas tree 

And look at each gleaming bough. 
Wondering if, as grown children, we 

Are not pleased with tinsel e'en now. 
There are gay glass balls, crimson and gold, 

Representing our bubble-like schemes ; 
There are brownies, too, and fairies of old, 

Like the phantoms of our day-dreams. 
I see bunches of cotton, looking like snow, 

Here and there on the sombre, dark green 
A sham which the branches seem to know 

As they peep from their glittering screen. 
Impossible birds, yet pretty withal, 

On twigs are perched by some wire, 
While from bottom to top the tree so tall 

Holds false fruit, flowers and entire 
Chains of gilded and silvered stuff 

To challenge the eyes of our boy, 
While his rosy face is beaming enough 

To reflect in my own some real joy. 



85 



LILY BELL CHIMES 

Hast thou ever chanced to dwell 
Near a dainty lily bell 
Which, with myriads of its kind, 
One can in the shadows find 
Ringing out in silent night 
Tiny tunes with all its might ? 
Sunday eve these flow' rets preach 
Whispered sermons — out of reach 
Of hearing ! They are only heard 
By each other, or a bird. 
When the day breaks, lily bell, 
Pure and pale, throws off the spell 
Of the silent, dew-clad night. 
Fair, so sweet, and snowy white, 
Dainty lily smiles about 
While its matin chimes ring out. 



EDNA 

Edna, the flowerets open their eyes 
To gaze at your beauty glowing, 

And flowers are wise. 
Edna, the roses smile up in your face 
And fancy for you are they growing, 

To pin in your lace. 

86 



Edna, the squirrel 'neath yonder tree, 
Trusting your gentleness, willed to stay 

With you and me ; 
So I, too, am gentle perhaps, my sweet. 
"Will you be good to me when I pray 

That our lives may meet ? 



APRIL DAYS 

All nature seems a-budding 

Reply to God's command, 
And the tiny flowers are studding 

The newly green-draped land. 
A deep and grave emotion 

Sweeps o'er me like the tide 
Of the restless, heaving ocean, 

And heaven seems opened wide, 

The earth is all transcendent 

With lovely, fragrant things ; 
Each star there hanging pendant 

A loving message brings. 
Ah, may this reverent feeling 

Come to each one and last, 
A newer life revealing 

Ere it sinks into the past. 

87 



MEMORY'S SEA 

Is THERE at your back, as you stand on the strand, 
An ocean of memory which leaves on the sand 
Small bits of blackened and shipwrecked joy ? 
Have these yet power to grieve or annoy ? 

Turn ! Look out on this sea of the past 
At the beautiful vessel with glistening mast ; 
How it braved the storm, pure, pearly white ; 
It was freighted with love, but sank out of sight. 

There in its wake comes the battleship ' ' Hope ' ' ; 
Through storm and 'mid demons its way it must 

grope. 
And off in yon distance, high in the air, 
Floats the black but majestic old cruiser " Despair." 

Pause yet awhile till they all pass us by, 
Then gaze again, nay not with a sigh — 
See, a God-given sunbeam has found release 
And shows through the darkness the steamer called 
' ' Peace. ' ' 



A LOST IDEAL 

Dearest, I see your rebellious curls 

In memory's mirror to-day ; 
They are golden brown — more than one twirls 

From the care-taking hair-pin away. 



Dearest, I see your hazel-gray eyes ; 

They show a glimpse of your soul, 
Which is as pure as your brain is wise — 

The two make an ideal whole. 

Dearest, I hear your soft, low voice, 

As it crept into my heart, 
And wonder why fate made so harsh a choice 

When it willed that we should part. 



DAFFODIL 

Yellow, golden daffodil, 
Say you that the world is cold, 
Think you that mankind is bold — 

Earth a desert still ? 

Smiling, joyous daffodil, 
Say you that the sky's dark cloud 
Wills your dainty head be bowed — 

Shall you do its will ? 

No, bright, golden daffodil, 
Gleam and laugh ; make light the day. 
Let the clouds with mortals stay — 

Sunshine 's with you still. 

8q 



DREAMS 

O come into my realm of flowers 

Whose every petal grew for thee, 
And let it be a bower of ours ; 

A rosy crown for you and me. 
My troubled heart cries out for peace ; 

Nights are sad and days are long ; 
Graveness now demands release ; 

Gladness would break into song. 

O come into my realm of dreams 

With Nature's real and living grace. 
To my thinking nothing seems 

Half so heavenly as thy face. 
Dreams are misty joys and fine — 

L,ead one in a blissful maze ; 
But to have thee, heart divine 

Is my dream of dreams, always. 



COMPANIONSHIP 

Sweet are the words, in gentle tone, 
Of the one in whose face I often look, 

As we sit together at eve alone ; 
Or read in turn the self-same book, 

Some romance, perhaps, of olden time. 

Some quaint tale, or some sweet rhyme. 

90 



MY SWEET 

Flowers and candies and jewels galore, 

Fit for a queen, for the one I adore ! 

A wand of rose leaves she charmingly wields, 

But her red lips for kisses she scarce ever yields. 

A flow of sharp wit she has, besides brain, 

And no man comes near who is n't her swain. 

Yet she has no smallest idea of her power, 

Nor how we are favored by ent'ring her bower. 

I gaze at the buckle that shines on her shoe 

And guiltily wonder whate'er I would do 

If she should detect me adoring her so. 

I know not indeed if 't would please her or no. 

American Beauties I throw at her feet ; 

Even they are not lovely enough for my sweet. 



LINES 

Some brood o'er grief, others make moan ; 

'T is a matter of temperament, each has his own ; 

But none has the merest idea of power 

That a grief or a joy can exert in an hour 

O'er the life of another — to make or to mar. 

He who seeks peace, in spite of the scar 

Of broken relations, is e'er in the right ; 

For why live in darkness when one can have light ? 

91 



NOT FORGOTTEN 

How can I keep on so, 
Wringing my heart with woe, 

Ne'er to be free ? 
Then would my eyes grow dim, 
All joy and strength and vim 

Starve, and for thee ! 

Yes, thou hast turned from me 
With scarce excuse or plea, 

Not e'en a word 
From those cold lips of thine, 
Nor didst thou write a line. — 

Friendship interred. 

I ope'd my heart to thee, 
That thou mightst therein see 

Every fond thought. 
Thou my poor efforts praised, 
Which to please thee were raised 

Then set at naught. 

May be sometime e'en thou 
Thy fond, fair face will bow 

In pain of loss 
Of those to thee most dear. 
Ah ! then thou 'It find, I fear, 

Pride were but dross. 

92 



Heaven grant, ere then, my sweet, 
Thou mayst a warm friend meet 

To act my part. 
Yet though I '11 not be there 
Part of thy grief to bear, 

Warm is my heart. 



SAUCY RED ROBIN 

There 'S a merry red robin outside in the tree ; 
He is pertly looking straight down at me. 
Mayhap a secret is wrapped in his song : 
" Wait not too late, wait not too long." 

l,ast night I was cruel out by the gate, 
Said to a tale of love that I should wait 
Some years, then marry. Was that wrong ? 
" Wait not too late, wait not too long." 

How know I thy meaning, robin so red ? 

Does the love in my heart, then, urge me to wed ? 

Saucy red robin, fly off with thy song : 

' ' Wait not too late, wait not too long. ' ' 

93 



THE DAISY DELL 

Down in the daisy-covered dell 

They stood, and the birds all chirped, '"T is well," 

While the rippling water seemed to say : 

" They are young, they are lovers, I '11 run away." 

A bright little zephyr that came amiss 

Tried to share in their lover's kiss. 

Down in the dell 
Where daisies dwell. 
" Oh, what bliss, 
Sweetheart, is this ! 
Do not depart, 
Love of my heart, 
For I live for thee, 
My love," cried he. 

Down on the daisy-covered ground 

He kneels beside a mossy mound, 

And the wind moans weirdly 'midst the trees, 

Where, only a month, the breeze 

Had playfully, on a day like this, 

Tried to share in that lover's kiss. 

Little brook, stay, 

Nor run away ! 

Hush, merry birds ; 

Not chirps nor words 

Can still his moan 

As he stands alone 

By the new-laid sod 

With his dead — and God ! 

94 



IN SOLITUDE 

Shall I try to place on canvas 
Such a scene as thou wilt prize ? 

Shall I write in glowing words, love, 
Rhapsodies to meet thine eyes ? 

Shall I play in dulce measure 

Lullabies unto thy soul ; 
Or invoke the aid of sirens 

That th}-- love might find its goal ? 

Draw thee near with powers fleeting, 
Magic sweetness not thine own ? 

No ; not while this heart is beating 
With a love that builds thy throne. 

Mayhap quiet is my greeting, 
Even strained may be my tone, 

But I live again the meeting 

In fair thoughts when quite alone. 

In thy absence crave I no one ; 

Solitude is peopled well 
With a multitude of fancies — 

Each a dream of thee could tell. 

Prisoner thine, my thoughts indeed are. 

Bound in slavery so proud 
That the chains seem rose-hued vapor 

With the strength of love endowed. 



95 



AGE'S SNOW 

Hands, once most eager, lay aside ; 

Now age's snow-storm falls — 
Brilliant fancies cease to ride 

Along the sombre halls. 
Repose is now the heart's high aim ; 

Let twilight gently come 
Into the day. Oh, but to claim 

Sweet rest ! This voice is dumb ! 
Varied mem'ries hover near ; 

What was, not what is now, 
Engulfs the mind ; but naught of fear 

E'er settles on this aged brow. 

The past, that great kaleidoscope, 

'Midst winged joys and fairy meads, 
Where grew the brilliant bud of hope ; 

And romance, born by fiery steeds, 
Passed by with dash and cheer. 

Once more to view them, one by one 
'T is well to look and hear, 

Standing thus at set of sun 
With ne'er a thought of fear, 

The dream dies out, hurries past. 
The snowy road, as yet untrod, 

Is short, and leads at last 
To sweet repose and rest — and God ! 



96 



ONE NOOK 

Just a scene of fragrant verdure, 

Elsewhere unsurpassed in charm, 
Where, unworn, unspoilt by handwork, 

Nature reigns without alarm. 
There a graceful, rapid river 

Passes calmly hill and weir, 
While its glancing, placid waters 

Bear no burdens, none need fear. 

Leafy bowers tone down the radiance 

Of the sunshine, and some fern 
Flourish in a vast green arbor. 

Ah, the birds are quick to learn 
Where the green is e'er the greenest, 

And they chirp a greeting shrill 
To things living, best or meanest, 

Slothful worm or whip-poor-will ! 



See the fox from thicket peering 

And the saucy squirrel aswing ; 
Boldly in his freedom fearing 

Naught — he feels a very king ! 
What a world of wonders quicken, 

Till they part and fade away 
In the sunny, sleepy bosom 

Of the scene recalled to-dav. 



97 



DISILLUSIONED 

Margery spies a great crimson rose 
And pulls it down to her pretty nose ; 
A sharp cry rings out on the sunny morn — 
Her fingers are pierced by an angry thorn. 

But she, entranced by the lovely bloom, 
Tries to pluck it to take it to her room ; 
Places her fingers with utmost care, 
Lest the thorns again her soft flesh tear. 

She bends the flower to break it free, 
But finds on its petals a bumble-bee. 
Determined, she comes for the sweet rose later, 
Only to find her troubles the greater ; 
For the rose's heart had been eaten away 
By a canker-worm on that fair day. 



98 



THE DYING DAY 

Bathed in the light from my casement 

Stands the harp with its golden strings. 
As I play, I find perfect effacement 

From all gross and earthly things. 
I follow the soothing onflow 

Of sound almost sublime, 
And feel a soft and gentle glow 

Which my soul seeks many a time. 

Then just as the last tone ceases, 

So the light of the dying day 
Fades out ; the dusk increases 

L,ike a sorrow which conies to stay ; 
But the harp, as it is bidden 

By my hands, banishes care 
With its gentle tones and hidden 

Rejoicing, peace and prayer. 



LofC. 



99 



A TENDER HAND 

There is a hand, a dainty hand, 

That plays no trifling part ; 
'T is not unlike a strengthening band 

Secured around my heart. 
It wipes away the tears of pain 

And gives a warmth divine ; 
It clamors not for praise nor gain, 

This hand which oft holds mine. 

O dainty, sweetly-perfect charm 
That lingers in its touch ; 

faint my heart is with alarm 
L,est I not answer such 

Endearing, tender, soft caress 
With like sustaining power ! 

1 tear my soul that tenderness 

May gleam forth for an hour. 



THE MASK 

Bring the powder and the mask, 
They will nothing further ask. 
See the glittering, smiling grace, 
Where masks all — each glowing face. 
Yonder dainty maiden there, 
With the curling, gold-brown hair. 
Finds the moments gliding by 
Empty — with her swain not nigh. 
Yet she laughs — such is her training — 
While her joy in life is waning. 
IvOok across the crowded room ; 
There, where the azaleas bloom, 
Stands the brilliant wife of one 
Bankrupt, ruined ere rise of sun ; 
Yet she stands in graceful ease, 
Tho' the morrow's fall she sees. 
Oh, bring the mask and powder nigh ! 
Sing a song — to hide a cry. 



ECHOES 

A SONG 

Hark to the shrill, sweet echo 
That rings from the hills afar, 

Long for a tender handclasp, 
Gaze at the evening star- 
Love, dear, is where you are. 

Lift to mine own those dear eyes, 

Softly entone my name, 
Ne'er let us mind the echoes 

Saying it o'er the same — 

That is the way joy came. 

Heart once so sad with yearning 
Now is with warmth aglow. 

Raise but once more thy glance, sweet 
Answer me soft and low, — 
But joyful is the echo. 



JACK'S WIFE 

This is the house that Jack built. 
This is the cage he placed Evelyn in, 
With pots and pans, kettles and tin. 

This is the house that Jack built. 

This is the maiden who married. 
This is the maiden who married a man 
Who pla3's a nice tune with tomato can. 

This is the maiden who married. 

This is the kitchen she stays in. 
Her once white hands are seamed with toil- 
The coal to bring up, the potatoes to boil. 

This is the kitchen she stays in. 

This is the cat who lives there, 
The hungry cat who lies in the way 
And looks about in wild-eyed dismay 
At a delicate creature working all day. 

This is the cat who lives there. 



i°3 



WHEN THOU ART NEAR 

Now daylight wanes and dusky night 

Unfolds its wings to shadow all ; 
But evening yields to my delight 

Whate'er befall — whate'er befall. 
Ah, better far than sun's best ray 

Is twilight which will bring thee here ! 
My midnight is the world's fair day — 

My sunshine glows when thou art near ! 

My heart cries out for thy sweet face — 

'T is weary waiting long for thee 
To come and gladden this poor place 

Which, tho' so fair, is dark to me. 
Thine eyes will teach me fullest joy ; 

Thy voice enrich the silence drear 
With sweetness such as ne'er can cloy, 

When thou art near, when thou art near. 



104 



A GLANCE 

SONG 

Such a glance, such a gleam from those beauteous 
eyes 

As I saw on that fair day ! 
'T was a look, swift and fleet, full of glad surprise, 

Leaving naught for tongue to say. 
Then a soft little hand in this one of mine 

Nestled down, but was withdrawn. 
Ah, I '11 ne'er forget that dear glance of thine 

In the moonlight on the lawn ! 

The years followed when lone and lorn I stood 

Until we met again, 
And of all life's ill nothing seemed fair or good. 

And hope was on the wane. 
Then my heart gave a bound of great bliss and pride, 

When I once more saw thy face 
And stood welcomed back unto thy side, 

Where my heart had found its place. 



105 



ADIEU, LAST STAR 

There are only eleven daisies in sight — 
There were hundreds all abloom that night. 

When we came to gather them he said : 
" I love thee dearest, wilt thou wed? " 

There are only two stars shining above — 
There were many the night we spoke of love. 

But why should the stars shine overhead — 
Are they needed to show that love is dead ? 

A storm now rages — the wind moans so, 
Like pain in a heart that yields to woe. 

Only scattered leaves now, the daisies are, 
And clouds hang darkly. Adieu, last star ! 



106 



OVERLOOKED 

The brook ran softly, cool and clear ; 

The day was warm ; 
A thirsty traveler riding near 

Prayed for a storm. 

A fragrant bank of violets grew 

Anear a maid 
Who had, in searching, found but two 

And felt dismayed. 

A life was counting out its years 

For some one's sake ; 
That other, scorning love and fears, 

The thread did break. 



107 



A SHIELD 

Indifference? Well, then, call it so. 
Enough for me that you do not know 
That this shield for my love serves so well, 
That my eyes do not their poor story tell 
Of love. O, yes, 't is indifference, you say, 
That lives in my words and manner to-day — 
This of all days. Oh, brain, keep up your pace ! 
One mad moment, a change in my face, 
And the work of months in self-control 
Away like a cloud or a mist would roll. 
Ah, why is it one's lips grow white 
And a veil-like vapor benumbs the sight 
At times like this ? Oh, merciless day ! 
Can the sun shine on midst such dismay ? 
Now, one great effort, a calm, cold tone, 
A steady glance. Cease, heart, to moan, 
Love must be banished, it can not stay — 
Stony indifference reigns from to-day. 



108 



SHALL WE 

Joke ? It is jolly and friendly 
And causes many a laugh ; 
But a joke will end 
When the heart of a friend 
Is hurt by the thoughtless chaff. 

Tease ? It is but a pastime 
And seldom draws a frown ; 

But tease no more 

If feelings are sore, 
Nor laugh at a heart cast down. 

Smile ? It is bonny and winsome, 
Like the sunshine's brightest ray. 

Then pause if grief 

Requires relief ; 
You can smile another day. 



109 



TO A FRIEND 

Dear Major : 

A sonnet I did threaten unto thee 
And such, in truth, the following shall be : 
I, knowing little, can not fully tell 
What lofty thoughts do often rise and swell 
Within thy mind. For there a mighty store 
Of science dwells, sacred and classic lore, 
Artistic worth, and practical good sense ; 
Linguistic knowledge, perfect innocence 
Of aught unworthy, mean, dull or small, 
Ivives in thy brain. Nor is this nearly all. 
Mayhap at times, say days or weeks apart, 
Thou giv'st a fleeting thought unto the heart 
Of this, thy friend, who, whatsoever doing, 
Is then and ever thine. 



'■' 



(m*i 



7 1901 



